From Greg
by Chapin CSI
Summary: Slash. Set after 19 Down. Gil and Greg have been together for three years. Will their relationship survive after Grissom's surprising announcement? Part three: Is Greg going to let Gil go, or does he have a back-up plan? Complete.
1. Chapter 1

From Greg

Part One

Spoilers: For Warrick; 19 Down, One to Go; and the closing scene from 'Ellie'.

* * *

Gil Grissom studied the walls in his office. There were fewer diplomas and posters now, and the empty spaces revealed what he'd long ago suspected: the room needed a new coat of paint. And something would certainly have to be done about the gaping holes he was leaving behind.

But it wasn't really his problem now.

He moved up to the closest wall and reached for a butterfly display -the last one in the room. He took it down as carefully as he could but it was no use; the nail fell right off, taking with it a large piece of stucco.

"The whole place's crumbling," he muttered as he walked back to his desk. There was an open box there, a sturdy one, and it was almost filled to the brim with his other insect collections. Now that he had the butterflies with him, he realized the display was just too big for the box. He'd miscalculated.

Slightly miffed, he put the buttefly display aside and glanced at the cardboard boxes discreetly tucked behind his filing cabinet. One of those should do.

He didn't move, though. He'd just come to a sudden realization: He needed more boxes. Those two would probably hold his books, and maybe a couple of files, but what about his specimens, and the miscellaneous contents of his desk?

And as he pondered this, a new thought occurred to him: He didn't have enough space at home. Everything he was taking with him would probably stay in their boxes for years and years.

Sadly, he looked at his butterflies. It didn't seem right, to keep these in a box -

"Something wrong?"

Gil looked up sharply. Greg was standing by the half-open door, smiling tentatively.

"I knocked," he said, "You didn't hear me."

Gil shook his head. "Sorry."¿

Greg took a couple of hesitant steps into the office.

"I almost went to your place," he said, "But I figured you'd be here, doing a little packing before the night-shift began."

Grissom tried to avoid the issue. "Did you get some sleep?"

"Yeah. I did." He looked at Gil for a moment, then dropped his gaze. The insect display on Gil's hands caught his attention. "So, is there something wrong with those? You were frowning at them."

"I was thinking that I'm gonna need a bigger house now," Gil said sheepishly. "Catherine used to say I'd turned this office into a second home, but I never listened. She was right, though." He shook his head almost imperceptibly. How ironic that he'd finally admit it, just as he was getting ready to leave the lab.

Forever.

It had finally happened: he was retiring from CSI. He'd made the announcement only a couple of days before, to his stunned colleagues from the night shift.

He hardly paused to gauge their reactions; all he wanted to do was come back to his office to finish some paperwork and then start packing. He was sure he'd be ready in one day, or two, at the most.

Little did he know that a new case was about to be entrusted to him, one that would force him to stay far longer than he'd originally intended. Facing his coworkers on a daily basis after his announcement was not something he'd evisioned, yet he was glad, in a way. Working one last case together would probably give them a sense of closure.

But with Greg, closure wouldn't come as easy. He was more than a colleague; he deserved some sort of explanation at least. Originally, he'd planned to take Greg somewhere for a private conversation, but the new case had made that impossible. 'Solve it quickly,' the sheriff had said, 'Solve it, and make me look good,' and that's what they'd been trying to do ever since.

On the other hand, what was there to say, anyway? Grissom was leaving CSI; their love affair, born in the lab and nurtured with their working relationship, couldn't possibly survive. He knew it, and Greg probably did, too.

Still, the fact that Greg had come early made it only too obvious that they needed to talk.

Resigned, he motioned Greg to take a seat. He sat behind his desk like he always did, and waited for Greg to begin.

The young man was smiling. "So," he said, "Think you're gonna miss the place?"

Gil smiled back. "I think I'm gonna even miss the smells."

"Those will be the first to go," Greg said casually. "Once Catherine settles in, the scents here will come from Dior, not old books. There'll be plants and flowers everywhere, there'll be cute pictures -"

He was teasing Grissom, and the older man reacted accordingly.

"My poor office," he said ruefully.

Greg was looking at Grissom's desk. A flat wooden box that looked antique had caught his attention.

"What's that?"

Grissom opened the box and offered it to Greg as if it were a cigar box. Only instead of cigars, there was only one object inside: a magnifying glass. Greg took it and examined it closely.

"Don't tell me you used this on the job," he muttered. "It looks ancient."

"Would you believe it was used in a Sherlock Holmes movie?"

"Really?" Greg looked at it with renewed interest. "Which movie was that?"

"I forgot."

Greg glared at him.

"How can you forget something like that? Properly documented, it could get you thousands on EBay."

Gil shook his head. "I'm giving it to Hodges."

Greg frowned. "Hodges? Why?"

"He's a Holmes' aficionado. He saw the glass once, fell in love with it, has been pestering me to sell it to him ever since -"

"And you're just giving it away? To him?"

"I'm giving away other stuff, too. And not just to Hodges. Anything that has caught a colleague's attention at one point or another will go to him or her. Books, specimens..."

"Wow. That's very generous of you. So, what about me?" he added good-humoredly. "Have you set aside anything for me?"

"Not yet." He looked at Greg. There were times when he could almost make himself forget he was in a relationship with the young man. And there were times when the depth of his feelings was revealed to him in a single glance. Like now.

Grissom smiled. "Tell you what: You choose," he said grandly, "I'll give you anything you want."

"I like the sound of that," Greg said gleefully. "Let's see -" and he looked here and there, as if he were actually trying to choose. Finally, he looked back at Gil. "I know what I want: I want you, behind that desk, for another five more years."

Grissom's smile wavered.

That was one thing he couldn't give him.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

From Greg

Part Two

Spoilers: For Warrick; 19 Down, One to Go; and the closing scene from 'Ellie'.

Grissom looked down uncomfortably. He cleared his throat, leant on the desk, then mumbled, "Greg," but before he could say more, the young man took pity on him.

"It's ok, Gil. I'm only joking. I know you've made up your mind." He smiled a little. "You think you're gonna come back for a visit?"

Gil shook his head. "No," he said hoarsely. "I don't think so."

Greg's smile faded.

Grissom leant forward and placed his hands on the desk. It was his turn to say something. Greg had given him an opening; now it was up to him. He took a deep breath but, again, there was an interruption; laughs and boisterous voices coming from the hallway. The day-shift technicians were finally returning from their lengthy coffee-breaks, and the noise was as annoying as it always was, except that this time it didn't bother him. It wasn't his problem anymore, and the thought almost made him smile.

But Greg wasn't smiling when he broke the silence.

"You took us by surprise," he said. He kept his gaze on Gil as if to make sure he had his attention. "It's true we've been through a lot lately, but… We never thought it would come to this. There was never any sign... I mean, we really thought you loved this job."

"I do," Gil said quietly. "I care about it. That's why I'm leaving."

Greg shook his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've given this job all that I could give," Gil said softly. "If I stay, I -" He didn't know how to explain it. He didn't want to admit that lately, he had trouble mustering the energy to come to work. He kept thinking he could –and should- be doing something different. Once he was in his office, the self-doubt disappeared... Until the next time.

He sighed. "I just don't want to do a half-assed job, Greg."

"But you'd never do that."

Gil smiled a little.

"It's the right time for me to go, Greg. People stay too long, sometimes," he said conversationally. "Some wear out their welcome; or they burn out. And then when they finally leave, they realize there's nothing else for them to do."

Greg nodded slowly.

"I knew you had reasons," he said quietly. "And I understand. What I don't understand is why you never told me any of this." He paused. "I would have thought I deserved some consideration from you."

Grissom met his gaze.

"You did. You do," he amended. He sighed. "I should have told you privately. I wanted to, but kept putting it off -" He wasn't even planning to drop the news that night; it was Ecklie who forced his hand. He came into his office and said, 'either you tell them, or I will,' thus forcing Gil to make the announcement earlier than he planned.

"I should have handled things differently," he admitted. It wasn't really an apology, but Greg seemed mollified by it.

He even smiled again.

"You know, guys from the other shifts think it's weird that you announced your retirement like this. No fanfare, no big speeches. But we don't think it's that weird. It was shocking, but not weird. It's just the kind of thing you'd do." He paused. "Warrick for one wouldn't have been surprised."

Gil looked up sharply.

"He even kind of warned me," Greg said, a faraway look in his eyes. "Back when I was starting out as a CSI, he said to me, 'There'll be no cake in the break room, Greg. One day, Grissom will be gone, just like that.'" He looked at Gil, "He said I should learn to do my job well, 'cause you wouldn't always be there to cover our backs."

Grissom looked down. Warrick was still a painful subject. He could discuss Warrick's cases with relative ease, but talking about the friend they'd lost was just too difficult.

"He was sorry, Grissom. For Gedda; for everything. He felt he'd let you down."

"I know," Gil said softly. He'd tried to assuage Warrick's guilt, but never quite succeeded. Warrick could not forget what he did; could not forgive himself. He'd died trying to rectify what he'd done.

Greg broke the silence again, and this time it seemed he was making a conscious effort to change the subject for one less painful.

"You know, I've been racking my brains trying to remember the first time we met, you and me." He frowned. "But I can't. I can barely remember what you looked like."

"It's been ten years," Gil said reasonably.

"Brass was the boss," Greg said, "That, I remember. You were his senior supervisor -"

"- you were the youngest DNA analyst we'd ever had -" Gil added.

"Brass was kind of a jerk, wasn't he? He didn't want to hire me; he made that clear. But you vouched for me."

"Yeah, well," Gil shrugged again. "You had all those letters of recommendation -"

"Letters?" Greg said with mock indignation. "And here I thought it was my good looks that made you decide."

"No," Gil said good-humoredly. "I didn't notice those back then."

"No, you didn't." Greg smiled mischievously, "And then you noticed but didn't do anything about it."

"Guilty as charged." Gil smiled.

"Luckily for you, I'd noticed your good looks too. And I didn't believe in holding back. Unfortunately for _me_, you didn't fall into my arms as quickly as I hoped," he said dryly. "First, I had to wine you and dine you for, what, two whole weeks?"

"What wine?" Gil retorted, "You bought me _breakfast_, and a couple of burgers. How was I to know you were trying to seduce me?"

"Hey, I was on a budget," Greg said defensively, but he was smiling, and so was Gil. They loved to tease each other with memories of their courtship. "I should have just grabbed you and kissed you; that would have saved us a lot of time."

"Well, grab and kiss was exactly what you did," Gil smiled.

And after a kiss like that, there was no turning back.

"Three years," Greg said musingly. "So much has happened since then."

Gil nodded wearily. "You were put to the test, the past couple of years."

"We all were." He looked at Gil. "We had setbacks; we lost Warrick and Sara." He paused. "Listen, I know this is a painful subject, but... People are wondering if that's why you're leaving; you know, 'cause you miss them so much."

Gil shook his head.

"That's not the reason," he said softly. "I do miss them. I always will. But, hum, the truth is, I started planning my retirement about ten years ago."

Greg gaped.

"_Ten_ years?"

Grissom smiled slightly. "Thirteen, actually. A couple of weeks after my fortieth birthday, I swore I wouldn't still be here when I turned fifty."

"What happened?"

"Nothing specific," Gil shrugged, but he could tell Greg needed to know. "It was a number of things, actually," he said reluctantly. "Like the trip to the pyramids that I had to cancel because there was no one to cover for me at the last minute… or the administrative requirements that make our jobs so damn difficult…Or the cases we lost in court because of technicalities…" He frowned at a sudden recollection. "Or maybe it was seeing a favorite rock group making a comeback on national TV."

"What, they were not good?"

"They were pathetic. They were past their prime, yet there they were, trying to keep up with younger musicians. It was a revelation. I knew right there and then that I'd get out before I grew too old to do my job well."

"Wow," Greg said simply.

"I almost left, five years ago," Gil admitted. "I got an offer from the UCLA Entomology Department. I was seriously considering it; I even started to clean my desk."

"So, what happened?"

Grissom only smiled.

"Come on," Greg said. "What made you change your mind?"

He looked at Greg in the eye. "You," he said at last. "You said you wanted to become a CSI."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

From Greg

Part Three

Spoilers: For Warrick; 19 Down, One to Go; and the closing scene from 'Ellie'.

I did a little rewrite on part two.

* * *

Greg was speechless.

"I couldn't leave after that," Gil said. "It would have been like leaving in the middle of a good movie; I needed to know how it all turned out."

Greg smiled.

"And how did it turn out?"

"You became a great CSI." Grissom was silent for a moment. "I always knew you'd be OK. You had the discipline and the focus. I just... had to be there, every step of the way. It was like a fresh start."

"I'm glad you stayed," Greg said good-naturedly. "Otherwise, we wouldn't have got together, you and me."

Gil smiled back. Falling in love was not what he had in mind when he decided to give Greg a chance on the field, but that's exactly what happened.

He had no regrets.

"It's hard to believe you won't be here, anymore," Greg said. "Or that you can actually stay away. I mean, you say you won't but, come on, would it hurt you to drop by for a visit, now an then -"

"I'd better not," Gil said, smiling a little. "The truth is, I don't think I could be here and stay on the sidelines. If I came in for a visit, I'd probably start meddling. Trust me, no one wants a former boss to do that."

"Oh. You mean, Catherine would be pissed."

"_I _would," Gil said pointedly. "And besides, in a few months I'll probably be out of touch too, so -" he let the word trail off. He was smiling, trying to make light of their conversation, but Greg wasn't smiling.

The young man was looking closely at Grissom; he seemed to be waiting, and once again, Gil was aware of the things they still had to discuss. He could simply ask Greg what he wanted. A direct question, a direct answer, and that would be the end of it.

But then, that was the problem: What if it was, indeed, the _end_ of it? He didn't want to hear Greg say it was over. He knew it would be difficult, practically impossible to keep in touch from now on; he knew that without the clout that being the boss gave him, he could hardly hope to hold Greg's interest for long. He'd accepted this a long time ago, but acceptance didn't make it any easier to take.

That's why he'd put off this conversation for so long...

"Grissom," Greg said suddenly. "I want you to know that..." He paused. He clumsily reached for something in a shirt pocket, and Grissom had the sinking feeling that it was a handkerchief. It wasn't, but whatever it was, Greg kept it on his lap, out of Gil's view. He was looking at it while he spoke. "These past years," he said a bit shakily, "I wouldn't change them for anything."

"Me, neither," Gil said softly. "I was happy."

Greg looked up.

"You were?"

"Of course."

Greg leant forward, putting his hands on the desk. "Grissom," he said eagerly. "Listen. I want to know if -"

But Grissom had finally decided to talk.

"I know I should have talked to your first, Greg. I'm sorry I didn't. I just didn't want things to change too soon."

Greg stared at him. "And they're going to change," he flatly.

"Well... It'll be hard to stay in touch," Gil said reasonably. He smiled, "Not unless I turn up as a witness in a crime," he added good-humoredly.

Greg clearly didn't think it was funny, but he forced a smile.

"So," he said casually, "Do you have any plans? Are you gonna move to Surrey and keep bees, like Sherlock Holmes?"

Gil smiled. "I just might."

Greg was looking expectantly at him. "You could teach too," he added.

"I could." Gil realized Greg did want to know what his plans were, and so he added, "I'm fielding offers right now. I got a couple of calls from Vermont and Chicago. Oregon, too. They're planning to expand their Entomology Department, they want help. I was thinking maybe I could -"

"Turn them down."

The words were so abrupt Grissom wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "Excuse me?"

Greg gulped. "Turn them down," he said again. "Whatever they're offering you, turn them down." He paused for a moment, letting these words sink in. Then, more confidently, he went on. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I want you to put your plans on hold for a couple of months. For me."

Grissom was too stunned to reply. His heart was beating so fast and loud, he was sure Greg could hear it. He was elated, but he took too long to answer, and Greg mistook the silence for reluctance.

"Just give me a couple of months," he pleaded. "Four, at the most."

"Greg -"

"I can't leave right now, Grissom. With you gone, Catherine's gonna need all the help she can get. I mean, Riley's doing great but she's still getting used to the team. There'll be a new guy or girl –I'll stay and help, and then I'll go with you to Vermont or wherever. I'll apply for a job there; I know I can find something to do; hell, I can even go back to being a DNA analyst and make a lot of money -"

Gil put an end to the babbling.

"Greg," he said more loudly. "I am _not_ leaving Las Vegas."

Greg blinked.

"You're not?"

"No," he said, as if it were obvious. "I'll be teaching seminars in Vermont and maybe Chicago, but I'll be coming back here. My home's here. _You're_ here."

Greg exhaled -noisily; as if he'd been holding his breath for days and had been just allowed to take a real breath.

"Jesus, Gil," he whispered. He was still processing what Gil had just said. "Why didn't you just say so from the beginning? I mean, you've been acting so mysterious, lately. I thought you were leaving," he said, almost angrily, "Hell, I thought you were going to dump me!"

"I wasn't going to dump you. I just didn't want to make any plans about us yet."

"But why?"

"Because -" Gil paused for a moment. "Because any decision should come from you," he said at last. He sighed. "We're going to be apart much of the time, now. Our schedules will be different. Let's face it, Greg; you spend almost every waking hour on the job -"

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Greg retorted. "I only spend every waking hour on the job 'cause that's the only time I get to be with you. I mean, why do you think I keep going back to the body farm? It's not the smells or the sights –believe me!"

Grissom stared at him. It was as if he were looking at him for the first time, ever.

"Would you really have come with me to Vermont or Chicago?"

"Sure."

Grissom was impressed. _Happily_ impressed.

But Greg was still pissed off.

"Why can't you be like everybody else and_ talk_, for God's sake?" He waved at him as he spoke, and accidentally dropping the object he'd been hiding in his hand all along. Released, it rolled over the desk like a dice, only it was definitely not a dice.

It was a jewelry box.

Gil looked down at it.

"What's that?"

"Nothing," Greg said quickly. He reached for it, but Gil was faster. Quick as lighting, his hand shot out and caught the box.

Greg looked up in alarm. "Grissom -"

"What is it?" Gil asked. Greg's sudden reluctance only fueled his curiosity. He opened the box and… Froze.

There was a ring inside; a gold band, gleaming in a nest of burgundy velvet.

Grissom looked at it in wonder, then he looked at Greg.

The young man shrugged slightly.

"It was papa Olaf's."

Grissom reached for the band, then hesitated. He looked questioningly at Greg.

"Go ahead," the young man said resignedly.

Grissom picked the ring and placed it on his open palm. It was very heavy, and obviously old. The deep etchings that covered it were worn smooth in some areas. There were inscriptions on the insides. Names and dates.

Gil held it reverently for a long time.

"It's very beautiful," he said at last.

"It's been in our family for a long time," Greg muttered self-consciously. "Papa Olaf got it from his dad."

Gil smiled a little at Greg's reluctance. The young man may have initially brought the ring for Grissom but it was obvious that he wasn't too keen on the idea anymore. Gil understood; it was a family heirloom, after all. He knew he should simply return the ring to the young man... But first, he wanted to have a little fun with it.

"So," he said casually, "Is this a proposal?"

Greg flushed.

"Well, hum, actually, I think the correct term is 'bribe,'" he said evasivelly. "You know. A gift. Or something."

"Are you sure?" Gil insisted. "I mean, it's a ring. A _wedding_ ring, if I'm not mistaken."

"Well, yeah. It's a wedding ring. But -"

Gil smiled. He could have tortured Greg a little more, but he couldn't do that. He loved him too much.

"I'm kidding," he said gently. He glanced at the ring one last time, put it back in the jewelry box and handed it back. "Here," he said. "You don't need to bribe me. I'm staying, and I love you. Even if I don't see you every day, it'll be ok." And he could almost believe it.

Greg took the box, paused for just a second, then shook his head.

"I don't want it back." He smiled, self-consciously. "The word 'marriage' freaks me out, but that's what it is, right?" He looked at Gil. "You said any decision had to come from me. Well... This is from me, then." He opened the box, took the ring, and handed it back.

Gil sobered up. He closed his fingers over the ring.

"That's very generous of you," he said.

"Yeah, well. You're not the only one who can give away stuff," he said casually.

"What about _my_ stuff?" Gil asked, "I'll give you the magnifying glass, if you want it. You're not a Holmes aficionado but neither is Hodges -not really. If I said I'm a soccer fan, he'd say he is, too."

Greg picked the magnifying glass, looked thoughtfully at it, then simply put it back in its case.

"Nah," he said, "Give it to the whiny pinhead. I already got what I want. And it's the real stuff."

"The real stuff?"

"Yeah. I'm a Grissom aficionado."

* * *

The End


End file.
